


Truth

by smaragaide



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 15:43:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10221719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragaide/pseuds/smaragaide
Summary: Post Season 6Where I think (unfortunately) Season 7 is headed....BUT... if it's going to happen, this is how I would write it. Call me sentimental but I still think Petyr deserves a moment of redemption even though he has done terrible things. I think the man is more complex than just a one-dimensional villain. AND that D&D need to bring their relationship to some kind of plausible close. It's been years of build up, it would be such a waste to have it handled poorly. Plus, I have yet to watch a scene in GOT that has made me cry. There's just too much emotion, tension, complexity and unsaid things between Petyr and Sansa. This has been one of the most interesting plotlines to watch unfold because the characters are dynamic together whether you love or hate them.This will probably be one of my least liked fics, but I don't care.





	

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Sansa stood against the cold wind looking over the turrets of Winterfell. It wouldn’t be long now and her heart was heavy. It had to be done she knew, but the pain she felt was very real. It wasn’t so much the betrayal or the truth her brother spoke, but the feeling of loss. A door closing forever and she honestly did not know if she could bear witness to it.

How many times had she dreamed of killing him? Every time Ramsay rained horror upon her, even when she found Jon and knew she was safe. The moment they met again in Mole’s Town, all Sansa could think of was how to hurt him. Make him feel the pain she felt. It wasn’t just the physical scars, that betrayal ripped her heart and mind in two. Yet, she let him live.

The look in Brienne’s eyes asking why as the man walked away unscathed left Sansa cold. Somewhere in her gut, she still needed him even if she told Petyr she never wanted to see him again. Then he answered her call for help, as she knew he would. She couldn’t do it herself as she protested to him that day. He must of known that too. She hated how well he knew her.

Since then, Jon was proclaimed King and Lord of Winterfell and for some reason Petyr stayed. He declared his love and plan to her and Sansa refused him for the final time. Or so she thought. He stayed for her it seemed to everyone else.

Sansa convinced Jon she had control over him, that he could be useful still. He had money, connections, and knew how to barter and manipulate than any other man in Westeros. He controlled Robin and the Vale for they desperately needed that support. She told Jon to go to meet the Targaryen queen. Make an alliance, she advised him. Anything would be better than Cersei at this point. It was Petyr that supplied them with all the information and Sansa wondered if he had this planned or she was acting more like him every day.

She had dragons, an army, and two powerful men as allies and advisors. Take back Kings Landing and then stand together against what was coming from the Wall. If they did not want the Mad King’s daughter on the throne after that, then it could be dealt with later. The Vale had enough provisions to keep the North alive and Petyr invested his time and money well. He offered it, but not to Jon. It wasn’t his words necessarily, but Sansa knew. This had nothing to do with Jon and everything to do with her. He was giving it to her.

Did Petyr hope to poison her mind against her brother while alone at Winterfell? That pretty picture, as she called it, seemed so far out of his reach now. He had banked everything on Sansa becoming the Wardeness and perhaps even crowned Queen in the North. He would have control of two-thirds of Westeros and easily take Kings Landing and eradicating the Lannisters.

The idea was still pleasant to Sansa. She wanted Cersei and the rest of them dead. She really didn't care too much on who took the throne after that. Jon, with honest advisors, could be a good king she supposed. Whatever jealousy she might have had before, was gone. She realized now, that she did not want that responsibility. Everyone that died was because of that desire of ultimate power.

No, if they could defeat the threat beyond The Wall, Sansa was happy to let someone else rule. She no longer wanted to be queen. Even if Petyr’s offer was enticing, she knew he or both of them would end up dead. Maybe it was just the idea of it. That he wanted _her_ to be his queen. Whether he meant to or not, he showed her just how to move him….how to control him. As she told Jon before he left, Littlefinger was still useful. She would keep him on a very short leash. Let him believe what he wanted.

That trust was gained the way Cersei taught Sansa many years ago when she was just a naïve girl. She knew what Petyr wanted and it wasn’t just the Iron Throne. The idea of bedding him wasn’t as frightening after what Ramsay did to her. Just let Petyr have her for a night and Sansa was sure she could convince him.

What she hadn’t considered at all was emotion. She had detached herself completely with Ramsay. Pretending she was somewhere else entirely every time he took her. But the moment Petyr kissed her and touched her ever so gently as if afraid to cause any pain, Sansa felt the ice around her melt. He was so tender, it took her breath away. Each touch, kiss, was an apology. He didn’t just take her and sate his lust like she thought he would.

Petyr worshipped every inch of her. That control Sansa believed she had was gone that night as he made love to her. How often she wondered what it would be like to have him in her bed. That if she gave herself to him, she could keep him under her thumb. Use him, if he believed he had what he wanted.

What she never counted on was wanting him. It wasn’t just the pleasure he gave. It became more than that and it was indeed frightening. That fury she held so tightly, that anger and hate towards him was ebbing away. She had not forgiven him nor did he ask for absolution. He was apologizing in his own way.  Perhaps he had another plan up his sleeve or maybe he just decided to accept the situation they found themselves in. Maybe he did love her after all.

She couldn’t love him after all this time and all that he had done…could she?

Sansa promised herself that she would not go to him again. That night would be the only time. A favor she bestowed on him. But it was a lie she told herself. She couldn’t count how many nights she lay in his arms. Jon and the other lords weren’t here to judge her. The ones that remained in the north most likely had no idea because Sansa and Petyr never showed any affection towards each other publicly. He was merely the advisor from the Vale. They would discuss matters, dine together sometimes with other lords and ladies. He would walk with her in the snow-covered gardens and no one thought anything of it. It was their little secret.

It changed everything yet changed nothing. She wasn’t his pawn anymore and he knew it. Petyr had only two choices. To leave or stay…   _but on her terms_. He told her he loved her but did not ask for her hand. He knew she would only deny him again. Sansa never wanted to marry again, not even him. However, she couldn’t stop those troubling emotions and it wasn’t just their nightly routine in each others beds. Whether it was seeking comfort, understanding or passion to forget reality for a little while, Sansa wasn’t sure. She didn’t want have feelings for him but when she woke in his protective embrace and there was nothing but them with the sunrise streaming through the window… Sansa knew.

She had become more like Petyr than she ever wanted to admit. She tried to tell herself that she could never be ruthless like him, but it was a falsehood. She stood and watched Ramsay’s dogs tear him to pieces and Sansa would be lying if she said she did find pleasure in seeing him die. She often wished she could have seen Joffrey choke to death, but it would have meant her own.

She observed Petyr many mornings while he was still asleep. He didn’t sleep much at first, probably afraid she would kill him and he might have been right in that. As weeks and then months went by, Petyr finally resigned himself to trust. He was so peaceful when he slept. Those lines softened on his face and he looked years younger. He would unconsciously hold her tighter if she moved and that tiny movement would still her heart. No, she wouldn’t let herself fall in love with him. Lysa loved him and look where it got her.

That wasn’t the truth either. Petyr never loved Lysa. Whatever this was between them, it could be love. That need to have someone by your side… someone who understood you. If they lived through this, Sansa couldn’t imagine trusting another man. She wasn’t sure how much she trusted Petyr, but one this was for certain – he loved her. Sooner or later, Jon would marry. Maybe he would be king and leave her to Winterfell. Then what would she do but live day to day never being able to trust another man ever again? If Petyr could let his pride and revenge go, would he stay with her? Could they be happy here or would she always wonder if he was plotting to find a new way to win.  Oh how she wished they could just be a man and woman and nothing else.

 

Breathing in that cold air, Sansa gripped the stone turret with her gloved hands. The time was at hand. How fast time flew since she was a naïve, selfish girl betrothed to Joffrey. Before she met Petyr and entrusted her life to him. Before her family died one by one….or so she thought. Theon confessed he never killed her brothers. She found Jon and then shortly after Rickon was dead by Ramsay’s hand. Jon was all Sansa thought she had left. Standing here now, Sansa cursed herself for wishing otherwise.

One afternoon, the illusion was shattered. Sansa couldn’t pretend with Petyr anymore. The feisty, little girl Sansa remembered was not what walked into Winterfell. She only recognized her sister by the little sword she carried – Needle, she named it. That little girl was a woman now and by the look in her eyes, she had seen much over the years of separation. Arya was still short for her age, but she was fierce and rather frightening.

To his credit, Petyr said nothing and stepped away from the sisters in the courtyard. There was a semblance of recognition between the two, or did Sansa imagine it? It was only a glance but Ayra looked directly at Petyr with a strange expression and then it was gone.

It was an odd reunion. Arya was never affectionate with Sansa and that had not changed after all these years. She wondered had Jon been here upon her return, would they had embraced each other lovingly? Sansa wasn’t really jealous at the thought, she and Arya were never close but they were still sisters. When she held her, Sansa’s heart soared and all of those childish words in anger were long forgotten. Jon would be so pleased when he returned. They talked all night and Sansa told her sister everything that had happened. Well, almost everything. Why she kept Petyr’s role in regards to Ramsay a secret, Sansa wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t really a lie. Just a truth unspoken.

When Sansa returned to her room, she half expected to see Petyr waiting for her, but he wasn’t there. The man wasn’t stupid. He knew his place at the moment and it wasn’t playing the lover. Arya said she saw the man she knew as Littlefinger with Tywin Lannister when she was trying to escape North. She couldn’t recall the conversation though. She was worried he would recognize her. Obviously, he didn’t or he kept it to himself. Why wouldn’t Petyr tell Sansa he saw her sister? If he wanted her dead, all he had to do was tell Tywin right then and there. Maybe he didn’t know. She would need to ask him the next time they had some privacy.

The following days, Petyr was acted aloof. He played his part effectively and stayed away from Sansa in a respectable, lordly way. He was only her advisor from the Vale, was he not? Sansa told Arya he was her savior and killed Joffrey. That brought a smile to her sister’s face. Sansa observed him carefully when Arya was near and he did not seem uncomfortable in her presence. When he attempted polite conversation at last, in regards to the last time he saw her in Kings Landing before father was executed, Arya called him out on the spot and shocked Sansa.

Petyr sat there quietly and seemed to be pondering it all. He didn’t deny meeting Tywin. What surprised Sansa is when he replied in kind and realization that the young servant boy was actually Arya. Sansa sighed inwardly. He didn’t know. Relief washed over her and she didn’t even want to ask herself why. Petyr defended himself in the way he was always so gracious. He was gathering information on the Lannisters. Playing them for fools. He did murder Joffrey after all and saved Sansa from them.

Reconnecting with her sister for the following week, Sansa realized why she avoided saying anything about Petyr’s involvement with the Boltons. This girl was dangerous and even though she was blood, Sansa was actually terrified of her. She travelled with The Hound, left him for dead even when Brienne came to find and protect her. She killed so many already, including Walder Frey. Petyr had told Sansa the man was murdered but no one seemed to know by whom. Her uncle, The Blackfish was betrayed by their mother’s brother, Edmure. Sansa couldn’t even trust her mother’s family at this point. That knowledge only seemed to add another name to Arya’s growing list of those to be executed.

That’s why she was fearful for Petyr and Sansa wasn’t quite sure why she was protecting him… for the third time. Arya seemed to be waiting for Jon to return. Perhaps she wanted to go with him when he waged war on Cersei. She still carried Needle with her everywhere, including at the dinner table. She didn’t attempt like Petyr and he didn’t try to convince her in any way. He kept his distance and Sansa missed him already.

Tip-toeing in her own home, she went to his room and bolted the door. He didn’t waste any time with words and it was all Sansa could do to stay as quiet as possible as they ravaged each other. Before dawn, she made her way back to her own chambers to find her sister waiting with look of accusation.

“Husband or are you just fucking him?” Arya frowned. “Rather old, isn’t he? You mooned over Joffrey like he was some young, beautiful god.”

They were sisters but an anger flared up in Sansa’s belly. She didn’t have to explain herself to anyone. She earned that right with all she’d been through.

“ _That_ is none of your business,” she retorted. “Those so-called younger men I was engaged or married to were monsters. Two Lannisters and a damn Bolton. Don’t you dare pass judgment. You don’t know what I’ve been through. I wouldn’t question your affections for someone because I don’t know what you went through either.”

“You chose to marry Bolton though,” Arya pushed on.

“I wanted Winterfell back and was prepared to do what was necessary to get it. I was on my own. I thought my whole family was dead,” Sansa growled. “I knew what I was getting into.”

It was a half truth. She just didn’t know how horrible Ramsay would be. Petyr said had he known, he would have figured out another plan. It could have been true, but she would never know. Ayra didn’t need to know any of it. At least not now. Sooner or later she would learn of it from Jon. By then, maybe things would be different. Those two were one in the same, although was Jon was still as honorable and kind as when he left and Arya? Sansa couldn't describe what life turned Arya into. No matter, once Jon retunred, Sansa would be pushed to the side where they were concerned just like when they were children. Sansa, was the outsider, not Jon the bastard. Arya loved him more than her own sister.

Dressing, she could still feel Petyr’s kisses. He really was all she had left. Sansa wouldn’t turn against her family for him. Not for power. But she could already feel that old resentment from years past. The moment Jon came home, Sansa would be nothing. Arya would proudly sit next to her brother the king. Sansa would be pushed to side, ignored. Her advice go unheard. Would they try to marry her to Robin to secure a Vale alliance. Being the forgotten sister, it was probably what was going to happen.

She saw it in Petyr’s eyes every day. She felt it in his arms every night. It was already slipping away. This little sanctuary they had for such a short time. A raven came and Jon was heading home. The alliance was made with the Dragon Queen. They would gather their forces and march on Kings Landing. Petyr wrote the necessary letters to Robin in the Vale and all Sansa could do was worry. It was just a matter of time now. If she was lucky, Arya would just go with Jon and Sansa would stay home. She debated on whether to send Petyr away to the Eyrie for his own protection but somehow she would worry even more. On his own, he was more vulnerable. Here, she could keep an eye on him.

How strange it was, that now, after everything that happened, Sansa was now protecting him. Then the unthinkable happened. Her brother, Bran had been found with a young girl. He was safe. Her family reunited except Robb and Rickon. She was thrilled and couldn’t believe it. Mother and Father would be so happy to know that most of their beloved children had survived. Bran was the rightful heir to Winterfell now but the young man , my how he had grown despite his crippled body, would not begrudge his half-brother’s title. Even Robb would have approved of Jon’s leadership. She was proud but it still stung a bit. She was just a girl, that silly naïve girl that no one cared about, that no one trusted to be a strong leader.

Bran explained everything as best he could. He had a power Sansa couldn’t understand, yet Arya was entranced by. He would be invaluable. He knew about the White Walkers. He seemed to know the past and everything that was coming. He constantly asked about Jon and how soon he was coming home for he had something very important to tell him. Arya tried to whittle it out of him but he held true. It was for Jon’s ears alone.

He and Arya seemed to understand each other completely. It was as if they were never apart but every time he glanced at Sansa, there was such sadness on his face. Did he know? Know everything? It scared her to death. Would he know and understand why she did what she did in Kings Landing? Sansa still felt like Arya blamed her a bit for father’s death. She had sided with Joffrey and the Lannisters so many times. Arya did not seem to pity Sansa’s terrible time but Bran did.

Everyone was besides themselves that the three Stark children had been united… everyone but Petyr. His face was mostly unreadable when in the company of others, but Sansa knew better. His eyes couldn’t lie to her anymore. It wasn’t just Jon, but now Sansa had her family back, why would she need him? That’s what his eyes told her.

He couldn’t understand how conflicted Sansa was. It was wonderful the family was together again, but she was right back to where she used to be so many years ago. It would be Jon, Ayra and Bran, with Sansa sitting quietly to the side. No one would care about her anymore. No one but the man occasionally catching her glance from across the room.

Last night everything changed and Sansa felt so ill, she practically coughed up her dinner in front of her brother and sister. Bran had wanted to speak to Sansa alone but as always Arya had to be involved in anything regarding what happened in Kings Landing.

The ultimate betrayal. Bran had looked into the past upon seeing Petyr, recognizing him from one of his many visions. The man that betrayed their father. He had asked for Petyr’s help to overtake the Lannisters and in the end, the Gold Cloaks took the side of the new, young king. Petyr had promised they would back the Stark’s. Father was executed for it. The sisters didn’t wait to hear any more from their brother.

She marched down the corridor and threw open is door. She couldn’t remember one word out of her mouth as she railed against him. Sansa slapped his face, pounded her fists on his chest. How could he! Father would be alive if he had supported him. Petyr tried to explain but she couldn’t hear him. It was only when Ayra unsheathed Needle, did Sansa stop and unconsciously shield her long-time mentor and now lover.

“No,” Sansa sniffed. “I want to speak with him.”

“He should die,” Ayra growled. “If you side with him over Father, I’ll kill you too. Are you still the traitor I remember? You wanted to be a Lannister. You stand against me now, and you’re not a Stark. Not my sister.”

“I’m no traitor,” Sansa seethed. “He should die for this. I need to speak to him first… alone.”

Bran was carried into the room and the pity on his face was almost Sansa’s undoing. He knew. He understood. Bran wasn’t demanding Petyr’s death like Arya.

“Father would be alive if it wasn’t for this piece of shit,” the younger sister held her ground.

“That’s not true,” Bran finally spoke. “I only saw the past, not what could have been. I’ve affected the past, but even I could not change this.”

“Doesn’t excuse…”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bran cut off Arya. “Our place isn’t here right now.”

He eyed Sansa knowingly and pulled at his other sister to leave the room. Arya barked and grumbled the entire way out but Bran understood. This was not Ayra’s vengeance to be had, as much as she desired it. This moment and conflict was completely in Sansa’s hands.

The door bolted just in case Arya changed her mind, Sansa heard his voice before she even turned to face him.

“Do you even want to hear why?” he asked solemnly.

“I’m here aren’t I? I just saved you, for the moment from my sister’s blade,” she replied evenly without looking at him. “So help me, if you lie to me right now, I’ll do more than kill you.”

“You want the truth? You won’t like it, sweetling,” Petyr sighed.

“Does it matter now?”

“Yes, it always matters,” he said. “I didn’t teach you for this long to believe lies, and accept what you think is true. Knowledge is everything. It’s the only way to make the best decisions. Family isn’t always there, true friends are impossible to come by and you should always trust your own judgment.”

Sansa stared at him and that arrogance and wit that usually coated every word was non-existent. He knew he was going to die but he wanted her to know what he was going to be executed for.

“The truth is, Sansa, your father wasn’t half as intelligent as you in his entire life,” Petyr began. “You would not have made the foolish decisions he did. Those decisions, whether you like it or not are what got him killed. You loved him, I understand that and makes this harder to hear or believe. When it was discovered that Joffrey was illegitimate, and that Stannis was the true heir, you father made a grave mistake. He had no clue how Kings Landing operated. He underestimated Cersei like I underestimated Ramsay. He took her for a simple woman and her children deserving of protection. Had I known what he was going to do, I would have tried to stop him. I didn’t think he was that obtuse.”

Sansa sat down and waited for him to continue.

“Your father went to Cersei and told her what he knew. He wanted to show mercy and allow her to escape the capitol with her children. He had the paper signed by King Robert declaring him Regent and denying Joffrey the throne. You know what kind of woman Cersei is. Your father had no idea that he just signed his death warrant. Cersei would never have allowed your father to declare Joffrey illegitimate, let alone put Stannis on the throne.”

Petyr sat down on his bed and looked worse for wear but he didn’t stop.

“You wouldn’t be sitting here right now, if you didn’t think I had reason. I’m not proud of it and I never wanted him killed. For Cat’s sake. He was supposed to be sent to The Wall. Even Cersei agreed. She knew killing him would start a war. A war your brother and mother would strike up in a heartbeat. One the North would rally behind.”

“Why did you side with Cersei? Why not my father? You could have gotten rid of that bastard. Maybe Robb and my mother would still be alive too…” she rambled in anger.

“You think that never crossed my mind? Do you think I wanted your mother dead? No.”

“You were a coward then?” she shot back and Petyr’s eyes held her firmly.

“I was not ready to die yet. Once he told Cersei, I knew it was over. If I stood by your father, I would have been executed right along with him. I tried to persuade him to be patient. Let Joffrey take the throne and stay as Hand. He didn’t listen. His honor wouldn’t let him choose anything but Stannis as the rightful king. He might have had a chance had he not gone to Cersei. Once I knew…. If self-preservation was wrong, then kill me for it. But think on this, Sansa…”

He poured himself a cup of wine and took a sip before continuing.

“Where would you be right now if I hadn’t done what I did? I didn’t want him dead even if I once loved your mother. I would never cause her pain like that. But you, my love… you would have been wed to that boy, or just used as a plaything. I can’t even imagine what would have happened to you. I would not have been there to steal you away. You may have never come home….”

“You married me to Ramsay… “

“And there’s no way I can ever take that back,” Petyr sighed. “If I could turn back time….”

“Neither of us can.”

“Sansa, your father was a good and noble man in a cruel and unforgiving world,” Petyr said. “He didn’t know what to expect in Kings Landing. He underestimated everyone, including me. If only he had taken my advice, I tried to warn him. I saved myself. You saved yourself. We just don’t know how the future would have looked otherwise. I did what I thought I needed to. I told you once before that if you wanted me to die, I would. It seems that time has come.”

“You want to die?” she asked incredulously.

“You’re not a fool, Sansa. Don’t act like one now,” he admonished in light tone. “Of course, I don’t. Frankly, I don’t see a way out of this. You might understand why I did it because you understood the Lannisters and the ways of Kings Landing. If you didn’t have a bit of doubt, I would dead already. Perhaps, that is enough that you know me. We are so much alike, you and I. Your brother and especially your sister, I feel, will not be as open-minded. I betrayed your father. That’s all they need to know. In the end, they weren’t wrong. Even if I thought you might believe and stand by me, I highly doubt you could ever convince them…or Jon when he returns.”

As much as Sansa did not want to believe, she knew in her heart he spoke the truth. This moment was probably the most honest Petyr had ever been with her. He wasn’t trying to save himself. He knew he was dead either way. Arya would never let him live. Sansa might be able to delay it, but once Jon returned, Petyr would be executed. Perhaps it was better to have it swiftly over than weeks of waiting for the inevitable.

Years ago, she would have been so horrified and furious that she would have killed him herself. Things were complicated now, more than he knew. They were alike. Since her sibling's return, what Sansa had long feared had come true. She wasn’t the Stark she used to be. Jon taught her that. Sansa thought and reasoned like Petyr. He was always in her mind, as if he were forever mentoring her in the decisions she made. Love, hate… there was such a thin line separating the two.

She hated him. His lust for vengeance ruined her family. However, it wasn’t maliciously meant. It was a by-product. Petyr did not set out to destroy her family. If father had heeded Petyr’s advice, he might still be alive. She couldn’t deny Petyr’s logic. Sansa was so childish until she learned the hard way. Her father with all his years, was just as naïve and never understood the politics. He only knew what was right and noble…honorable. There was no honor in Kings Landing. It was going to get him killed sooner or later. Sansa only survived because she learned how to play. Father refused to.

The following morning, taking Petyr to the heart tree, the place he requested, was the longest walk of her life. Arya and Bran could never understand what was between her and Petyr. Maybe she had Bran’s pity, but he still could never know the complications of their tumultuous relationship. For better or for worse, Petyr made her a stronger woman. He taught her so many things, how to survive, how to hate… and love.

His golden doublet was immaculate and Sansa hid a slight smirk. Even to his death, Petyr would be well-dressed. The poor boy from nowhere became, for a time, one of the wealthiest and powerful men in Westeros. Sansa may not agree with his methods but she understood why he became the man that kneeled before her now. He was either going to take the throne, burn down the system that judged him merely for his low birth or die trying. He came so very close. Sansa wondered, even now, if she would have chosen him had she been the last of her siblings.  Even now, she couldn’t help but wonder if Petyr might have become a good ruler taking up the mantel for the poor man.

Sansa couldn’t move. Petyr looked at her as if he could read her mind. She couldn’t kill him in Mole’s Town even though she wanted to. Now, he was going to die and Sansa couldn’t bear the thought it. That morning overlooking the courtyard, she tried to convince herself to let Arya do it and not have to witness it. The moment she saw his face, Sansa knew she had to be here. He saved her but she would not be able to save him this time.

Arya walked up with Needle and Sansa found herself blocking her sister’s path.

“No, not you,” Sansa pressed an out-stretched hand to Arya’s chest.

“Who is going to do it? You?” she sneered and Sansa felt for a second like that silly girl they always teased because she preferred to wear dresses instead of playing with swords.

Sansa straightened her shoulders and stared her sister down.

“Yes,” she told her plainly, taking Petyr’s dagger from one of the guards.

Facing Petyr, Sansa’s breath caught in her though. Ayra might be right. She didn’t actually kill Ramsay herself. She watched. It pleased her to see him die, but nothing pleased Sansa in Petyr kneeling before her. He had to die, she knew, but this was now the hardest thing she ever had to do in her life. She survived Joffrey, Ramsay… and would have gladly killed them both but now…

She knelt before him and her heart was beating madly, not in excitement but terror. Sansa cared for this man even after everything he had done. After today, Petyr would be dead and Sansa didn’t know how to live without him. She needed him, his advice, his praises… his love.

Feeling the eyes of her siblings behind her, Sansa raised the dagger to his pale throat. Who would comfort her tonight when she went to bed in tears. Petyr wouldn’t be there to hold her. He was her enemy, her friend, teacher, father and lastly her love. Yes, she loved him. How was she supposed to kill him?

Her hand trembled and she knew she couldn’t do it. This strange love between them was now breaking her heart. His eyes were full of sorrow, not for himself. Petyr had resigned himself to his fate. Sansa did not see a man before her, it was the boy from The Fingers. The boy that was cut down because he loved the wrong girl. The boy that was told he was never good enough his entire life. The man was made from that bitterness and hate. Now, he found the love he craved only to have his decisions and game of revenge come back to haunt him.

Suddenly, his hand covered hers and stilled the shaking of the blade near his throat. It was firm but he didn’t push it away. Instead, he guided the dagger so close it touched his skin. Without saying a word, Petyr was telling her what to do. One tear fell and then another and Sansa was so glad her sister could not see her face.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he smiled sadly. “Your face is the last thing I want to look upon.”

“I can’t do it,” she whispered so softly so only he could hear.

“Yes, you can. You must. This is why you will be a great queen. You do what has to be done, even if it breaks your heart,” he murmured as she leaned closer.

“I’m not a queen,” she breathed.

“You will be. I asked you to believe me once and now I’m telling you again,” he sighed. “You’ll be strong without me. You never needed me. You have always been strong. Don’t let them – “ he eyed Arya for a moment, “tell you otherwise. You’ll be a better ruler than I could have ever been or deserved. You'll be better than the rest of them.”

“I needed you then,” she whispered in his ear. “I need you now. I can’t do this alone.”

Petyr steadied her hand and pushed her back so they were face to face once again, a breath away from his lips.

“It’s a kindness,” his small smile made her choke on a little sob threatening to tell everyone present she loved the man she was about to kill. “Like your mother, you saved me once. I fell in love with you in that very moment. I was so proud. Then you saved me a second time, for why I still don’t know. Everyone’s time comes. Now is mine. This time, you must do it. _You_. I need you to prove to them you can do it…that you are stronger than all of them.”

Not caring who saw, she leaned in a kissed him and tasted her tears mixed with mint.

“I do love you,” she cried softly. “Look at me. I promise you, your son will know you. I will give him everything I have. He will never be looked down upon. He will be proud of his father. I swear by the Seven it’s true.”

The mixture of happiness, shock and complete belief in his eyes was her undoing as the blade slid across effortlessly. That razor sharp Valyrian steel cut deep and quick. Sansa felt his warmth flow over her hands, but his eyes never left hers. It was quiet and he did move or panic as his life drained away. Petyr’s eyes were losing their focus as he fell into her and Sansa held him tightly. She would be with him until the very end. Running her fingers through his hair, Sansa gently shushed and rocked him like a mother would a child in fear.

“I am with you,” she whispered to him as the silent tears fell uncontrollably. She would be strong enough for both of them. His hand found hers in those last moments. The grip firm a few seconds more and then he was still.

Hearing Arya huff in annoyance at the manner of it all, Sansa shot her a deathly glare of defiance. Petyr had been alone all his life, Sansa would be damned if he was going to spend his last moments without a shred of love or compassion. He was not a good man but that’s what the world made him. This is what the world made her. Neither of them in their youth would have believed this is where they would have ended up.

She wanted Petyr to have just a little happiness, love and hope….that something of him would remain. Not just the love she felt for him, but something that would live on. Sansa didn’t know for sure, but it was possible she did tell him the truth. Whether it was a sickness due to her nerves and emotions, but she felt like something was truly created between them in that short time. If it was a lie, it was kindly meant. Only time would tell for certain. What rocky path her feet were set upon was due to this man in her arms. Now it was only a question of where would it lead. The clasp undone, Sansa looked down at the mockingbird pin, a glimmer of silver in her blood red palm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Damn you, Fernando Velazquez for writing such beautiful music to write by.  



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